Things Left Behind
by TheTwilightRurouni
Summary: Where the devil had Matthew gotten an orange?


In the pre-dawn gray, a flash of orange flickered through the mist. No, an _actual_ orange. Where the devil had Matthew gotten an orange?

Guy slid through the camp like a wraith, avoiding tent ropes and ashen campfires until he came to where Matthew sat beneath a dewy magnolia tree.

"Where did you get that?" he asked.

Matthew tossed the orange in the air, vibrant as the sun itself, and twice as welcome.

He caught the fruit and looked at it as though he'd only just become aware of it. "This? Well, I know you don't have much besides grass in Sacae, but these," he said, smacking the knotty magnolia roots, "are called _trees_ , Guy, and they sometimes grow oranges."

Guy glowered down at him. "There aren't any orange trees around here."

"Are you saying this didn't come from an orange tree? That it came fluttering down on Pegasus wings?"

Guy's brow wrinkled. "What? Of course not, why would I say that?"

Matthew shrugged and got to his feet. "I don't know, but that's what it sounded like you were saying. Are all Sacaens this odd, or just the Kutolah?"

He wandered away, leaving Guy to stare after. He never left a conversation with Matthew feeling like he'd learned anything.

#

The only people who would normally have oranges, Guy concluded, were the nobility. He didn't resent them for it; Guy knew how expensive fruit was, especially on the warpath. Whoever it was – Lyn, Eliwood, Hector – no doubt had very few oranges. A luxury for a lord.

What did bother him was the idea that Matthew might steal from them. He had always thought the man an upstanding sort of thief, a _principled_ thief. Or perhaps he simply didn't like the idea of owing a life-debt to a selfish scoundrel, even after he'd repaid it.

So he took to investigating Matthew in his free time. He would not turn the man in - that would be childish - but if he wanted to confront him, he would first have to catch him in the act. He started his investigation at noon the following day, after the company had paused to wait out the heat of the afternoon. The weather on Valor was just as eerie as he remembered, misty and cool with the coming and going of the sun, yet a blistering, desiccating heat dominated midday.

Being unable to simply walk into the lords' tents and ask if they had oranges, it seemed the best place to begin was by finding a farmer. Some asking around had led him to the aged knight, Walter.

"Walter!" he called.

The man ignored him.

"Hello, Walter? Excuse me?"

The man turned from where he sat beneath a scrubby tree, polishing an iron-gray pauldron. "What? You talking to me? The name's Wallace, boy."

"Oh." Guy paused. Outlander names all sounded so similar; Eliwood, Elbert, Hector, Uther, not to mention those Pegasus knights. "Sorry. I was wondering, you're a farmer, right?"

Wallace returned to his task. "When I'm not sowing misery and woe, yes I am."

"Do you grow oranges?"

Wallace shook his head. "Never much of an orchard man, too much work. Oranges are delicate little buggers. Gotta keep the frost off, baby 'em like mooncalves."

"I see. Do you know who _would_ grow oranges?"

Wallace bobbled his head in uncertainty. "At one time, perhaps, but during a war? Who knows."

Guy sighed, cursing his luck. It had seemed so promising.

"You might try that Lowen fellow, though," Wallace continued. "He's always munching on something. I bet he knows all about everything when it comes to food."

"Lowen, yes, thank you." Guy had no idea who that was. He hazarded a guess. "The one with the…the hair?"

"Yeah, that's the one. Always carries a haversack of rations like he's a Solstice Spirit come gifting."

Guy thanked him again and went on his way. He climbed a gently sloping hill, where the wind could tousle at his hair, and sat to meditate on the problem. The company was sluggish in the heat, scurrying from cover to cover, and he watched for a man of Lowen's description.

Instead he spied Matthew, strolling between the lean-tos, this time juggling _three_ oranges. Guy got to his feet and followed, but before he was two steps on his way, a man in yellow-painted armor ran up to Matthew. He had a bag slung over his shoulder, and a mop of unkempt hair hung in his eyes.

Lowen. Guy stopped to watch the exchange.

Lowen gestured to the pin-wheeling oranges, and Matthew stopped juggling them. He reached out and gave Lowen a friendly smack on the shoulder, no doubt meant to distract him while Matthew's other hand deftly tucked the fruit into some secret pocket in his cape. It was amazing how easily Guy could spot Matthew's tricks when he wasn't the victim.

Matthew held his hands out wide, and Lowen drew back in alarm. He patted Matthew down, who only laughed before walked away, leaving Lowen to stare after in confusion.

"Lowen?" Guy called.

The knight looked up to where Guy descended from the hilltop. "Yes? You're Guy, right?"

"That's me. I was wondering, what just happened with Matthew, there?"

Lowen cast a glance over his shoulder in the direction Matthew had disappeared. "I wanted to know where he'd gotten those oranges; scurvy isn't just a sailor's worry when supply lines are this drawn out. He hid them and told me I was seeing things. He's a weird one."

"I suppose that means you don't know where you'd get oranges?"

"I know where you normally would, but not anymore. There used to be a famous orchard in Laus, but it's a ruin now. Other than that, I have no idea. It's why I was so desperate to ask him. The only other orchard I know of is the House of Orange in Ilia; they grow them big as your head in a huge glass house. They're supposed to be the best in the world, with a price to match. I've always dreamed of getting my hands on one, along with a haunch of Bernian mountain yak and some of that hoppy ale they brew down in Araphen, put that together with a…"

Guy walked away, and Lowen didn't seem to notice. He had said something curious; Ilia, of all places, had the best oranges in the world. Interesting. Guy looked skyward.

#

"Fiona? Felicity?" Guy muttered to himself. "Fiora? Fortuna? Florina? Firma? What's her name…"

He was outside the makeshift Pegasus stables, pacing back and forth in the darkness. At dusk he had watched one of the riders come and take her Pegasus out, apparently for a night ride, and now he was waiting for her to return. If only he could remember her name.

The sound of massive wings alighting caught his attention, and he looked up as a Pegasus came to ground only a few feet away. The rider waited until the creature's wings were properly folded before patting its neck and sliding off. She had short, dark hair, swaggered like a pirate, and Guy still couldn't remember her name.

He'd have to settle for something less specific. "You!"

She looked up and cocked her head. "Whoa. I didn't even see you there. Don't you know you're not supposed to go near the Pegasus stables at night? There's a cordon line for a reason. I could have landed on you, cleaned you off her hooves and not known till morning."

"Uh…" Guy resisted the urge to take a few steps back. Those were some awfully large hooves, and for the first time he realized Pegasus weren't nearly as delicate as he'd imagined. "Sorry. I just wanted to talk to you."

"Twenty-thousand gold is standard, all up front, although for you I'll cut it by twenty-percent because you look poorer than a dead man with three wives."

"I - what? That's…eighteen-thousand? To talk to you?"

"Oh, no. I thought you wanted to hire me. You don't want to hire me?"

"No-"

"I don't talk to people I don't work for or may potentially work for."

She led her mount beneath the enormous canvas lean-to, alongside two other Pegasus and a pair of wyverns. Guy often wondered why the wyverns didn't eat the Pegasus, although Matthew had once told him that Pegasus blood was poisonous to them. Guy didn't believe it.

"How much to answer some questions?"

The woman poked her head out from behind her Pegasus, where she was running a brush over its broad back. "Ten-thousand. That's my consultation fee, for you."

"Really? But that's ridiculous."

"Consistency is key in all things."

"Has that ever worked for you?"

She frowned. "Only once." She glanced toward the center of the camp, where the lords pitched their tents. "But once is enough."

"Okay, well, I can't pay that." She ignored him, and he stood in silent uncertainty. What should he do? What would someone else do, maybe someone who was better with women, like that Sain fellow? "Can I just stand here and talk, then? Uh…muse in your presence?"

"Heh, _muse in my presence_ ," she chuckled. "I like that. Go ahead, knock yourself out. Just don't expect any replies."

Guy paused, unsure how to proceed. This was getting weird. "I thought you might know something about oranges."

She paused and raised an eyebrow.

"Being from the land of Ilia," he said, "as all you Pegasus knights are, which is also known for the House of Orange."

Her brush hit the ground with a dull thump. "What?"

"The House of Orange-"

"What _about_ the House of Orange?" She didn't give him time to reply. "I hate the House of Orange – I tried to get a job delivering for them, and those stuck-up snobs told me they wanted someone less 'provincial,' as if my hometown meant I hadn't bled the same as everyone else to earn my wings. So what about the House of Orange?"

"I was wondering if they were delivering to any of the nobles in camp."

"Why?"

"Personal reasons."

"Well I can't help you, not unless it involves sabotaging their supply line."

Guy hesitated. It wouldn't really be stealing, not with what he intended, and intentions mattered. "Would you do that, just once? If they are delivering, don't destroy it. Please bring it to me. Also, to be clear, I can't hire you."

Her jaw set, and her eyes shone in the moonlight. "To blight the House of Orange, I'll do it for free."

#

It wasn't until the first of the following month that Guy's plan came to fruition. In the dead of night he awoke to the sound of his tent flaps being unceremoniously thrown aside. He leapt to his feet in a blink, blade free and glinting in the starlight.

"Relax." The woman, whose name he still didn't know, stood in the entrance with a small wooden crate in hand and a wicked grin on her face. A dark trail of blood trickled down from her right eyebrow, which had been nastily split. "I got it, and I'd like to see them recover from losing _this_ particular order."

She dropped the crate at his feet and was gone before he could thank her. After a moment he sheathed his blade and brushed his loose hair away from his face. He took the crate out to the smoldering remains of the campfire. By its faint light he removed the lid, which had already been opened once, and read the missive that lay on top of three massive oranges, cradled in Pegasus feathers:

 _By order of Marquess Uther of Ostia for Hector of Ostia, wherever he may be._

" _Good health precedes good action, brother. Have a care."_

Guy's stomach flipped. These were for Lord Hector, which meant Matthew was not only stealing from the nobility, but his sworn liege. He set the crate aside, and with indignant, curt motions braided his hair before getting to his feet. He stole across the camp and waited outside Lord Hector's tent, hiding the crate in plain sight by sitting upon it as though it were a common stool.

A few hours before dawn his patience was rewarded as Matthew slipped into the tent only to emerge a few minutes later, shaking his head.

"Looking for these?"

Matthew's head snapped up, and he whirled. He froze mid-throw, a slender knife glittering deadly between his fingers. After a moment he relaxed, composing himself.

"Didn't take you for a thief, Guy. What do you want for them?"

"A _thief?_ Me? I took these to keep them from you. I knew you were up to something. I had no idea it was this dishonorable."

The amusement bled from Matthew's face. "You want to know what I do with those?"

"Eat them, I imagine."

"No."

"Then what?"

"I'd rather show you. If you'd prefer to continue thinking of me as a thief, though, that's fine. Most people do."

He turned to go, and Guy's curiosity got the better of his outrage. "Wait. Show me."

He hefted the crate and handed it over. Matthew popped open the top and removed the missive, then took the crate into Hector's tent. When he emerged he led Guy to the edge of camp, and there they waited. As night lightened to the gray of pre-dawn, heavy footfalls met their ears. Matthew pulled Guy down into a ditch, and they watched as Hector emerged from the mist, the crate of oranges under one arm. He looked around for a moment, then started off in the direction of a rocky outcropping Guy had used for his meditation the afternoon before.

They trailed the lord in silence until the woods came to an end, then they watched from the edge of the foliage. Hector set the crate down and began to collect fist-sized stones. When he had a small pile he removed the oranges and used the stones to build a cairn around them. For minutes on end he worked, until the oranges were concealed beneath the rough, dusty stonework.

He stood before it for a moment, eyes flinty and dark. With a snarl he stomped the empty crate to splinters, kicked them to the wind, and made his way back through the woods. When he'd gone Matthew emerged, leading Guy to stand before the cairn.

"He does this every month." Matthew met Guy's puzzled gaze. "His brother is dead, Guy. He hasn't told many people."

"But why?"

"Why this?" Matthew stared down at the cairn for a while before shrugging. "I think by leaving them behind, he's leaving behind his grief and anger. At least until he's ready to deal with them."

He knelt and uncovered the oranges, dropped them into his cape pockets, and rebuilt the cairn.

"What do you do with them?" Guy asked.

"Squeeze out the juice and put it in his ale. He never notices."

"And the missives?"

"I keep those. The first one drove him crazy, pushed him over the edge. Having a loved one reach out and speak to him from beyond the grave, I think it bothers him, makes him feel powerless, or maybe guilty. Doesn't sound so bad to me…" Matthew lapsed into silence for a moment before the corner of his mouth ticked up into a sad smile. "But Lord Hector's like that. Don't tell anyone. Pity is poison to a man like him."

"I would never reveal another's secret."

"I know." Matthew wandered away, leaving Guy to stare after. "That's why I told you."

END


End file.
